Wesley Corpus

A taste of that mysterious cup His faithful follower now receiv'd, And fill'd his Lord's afflictions up, While grief beyond conception griev'd: Page 67 His agonizing soul sweat blood, With Christ he fainted on the tree, And cried in death, "My God, my God, Ah! Why hast thou forsaken me!" Tried to the last, but not forsook, But honour'd with distinguish'd grace, Heavenward he cast a dying look, And saw once more his Saviour's face: "He's come! My well-belov'd," he said, "And I am his, and he is mine!" He spake: he gaz'd: and bow'd his head, And sunk into the arms divine. Shout all the first-born church above His full triumphant entrance there, Shout all on earth, whom Jesus' love Hath call'd his cross and crown to share: Our calling, Lord, we calmly see, Our burthen joyfully sustain, And die thro' one dark hour with thee, With thee eternally to reign. Hymn XLII. Another On the Death of Mr. Thomas Walsh, April 8, 1759. Aged 28. Glory, and thanks, and love, And everlasting praise Ascribe to God, who reigns above Supreme in power and grace; To his co-equal Son, The dear-bought sinners' friend, Jesus, who freely loves his own, And loves them to the end. To God the Comforter, The earnest and the seal, The witness of our sonship here, The gift unspeakable: Page 68 To the great Tri-une God Be ceaseless honours given, Till Christ descending on the cloud Turns all our earth to heaven. He bids us now partake Our fellow-servant's bliss, Whose soul returns in safety back From life's tempestuous seas, Who driven and tost no more, No more o'erwhelm'd, opprest, Claps his glad wings, escap'd to shore, To the Redeemer's breast. He sees the trial past, He leaves the storm behind, To his triumphant head at last Inseparably join'd: Shout all the hosts above, When Jesus saith, "Well done," And deigns his servant's faith t' approve, And seats him on the throne. Thanks be to God who gave The victory and the prize! Join all who own his power to save The triumph of the skies! The church of the first-born, To them by faith we come, And conquerors of the world return To our celestial home. We know in whom we trust, We haste to his embrace, Mixt with the spirits of the just, The perfected in grace;